


The Bitchin' 1920s (Voltron: Legendary Defender) (Klance)

by Deathbycake599



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Betrayal, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Fluff, Gay, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Sex, Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Possible Character Death, american prohibition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 08:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathbycake599/pseuds/Deathbycake599
Summary: Keith held the barrel of his gun to Lance's back, the cold metal seeping through the cotton of his off-white shirt and onto his tan skin, causing a shiver to run up his spine. They both had fear in their eyes, there was no mistaking that. Both of them were terribly afraid."I never wanted this Lance, you must understand that. You, Shiro, Pidge... I didn't want any of this." His voice was trembling, barely above a whisper. Keith was shaking as his finger hovered over the trigger."I know, I know Keith... but that's hard to believe," Lance was in a similar state. Borderline hysterical."Lance, I'm sorry. I swear, I lov-"A trigger was pulled and blood was spilled as a limp body hit the floor, an awful 'thump' sound joining it.***Warning/Disclaimer:  This fan-fiction is set in 1929 and you may come across sexist, racist or homophobic comments. Please be mindful of the time period it is set in while reading. However these aspects will only be lightly touched upon and will not be a major focus of the plotline/ characters.Also, there will be mentions of drug use and alcohol abuse.If you are sensitive to these topics, please be mindful when reading.





	1. Quintessence, a Drug for the Rich

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm Seb.
> 
> I'd first like to thank you for choosing to read my shitty work. This is my first time /posting/ on AO3 so apologies if anything is messed up font/ Italics wise.
> 
> Don't forget to like, bookmark and comment your thoughts and opinions, feedback is always the most interesting bit.

_“Shiro…”_

_“Yes, Keith?”_

_“Promise you’ll never leave?” His voice shook with certain unease, the cold, and night air only making it considerably harder to hide his nervousness._

_“Of course, but why make me promise?”_

_“Because I can’t have anyone else leave… I need you, Shiro.”_

_“I know Keith…”_

Then why did you leave?

The city streets were quiet this time of night, a fresh layer of snow had been sprinkled over the layer of ice and puddles had frozen over. Few street lamps actually lit the pavements below it, creating a signature, orange glow across the grey slabs. Few people were out at this time of night, choosing to ignore the criminal acts that would take place in the shadows of the city. That’s why Keith was here, a cigarette between his lips to keep him warm, the chemicals hitting the back of his throat and was sent straight to his head.

He worked this corner of the streets most nights, practically handing out drugs like candy to young teens and high class business men that were most likely cheating on their wives as well. However it wasn’t Keith’s business what his clients did before or after he supplied them. Usually it was common drugs such as Marijuana, cannabis or cocaine; it was rare he dealt with quintessence, which Keith usually saved for himself.

However this client was different. Rolo was a common customer when it came to quintessence; he was one of the very few clients of Keith’s that came for quintessence. The drug itself was expensive and Rolo was already in heavy dept with the Galra, something Keith wouldn’t wish on his worst enemies.

“Hey Red,” Rolo both looked and sounded rough. His clothes were filthy and they smelt like a mix or grime and diesel fuel. His face was covered in dirt only causing his eyes to look a lot redder. The pupils were dilated, that mixed with shaky limbs and a wobbling stance was a sure sign of the beginning of with-drawl. It would only get much worse, soon much more side effects would begin, vomiting, crippling nausea, severe migraines and in worse casas, vomiting blood and nosebleeds. There was one case where a man suffered a stroke from quintessence with-drawls; it made many wonder why anyone would take it in the first place.

“Rolo,” There was an unspoken rule between dealer and client that pleasantries were never touched upon, they were unnecessary and a waste of time and in this business time was money. “Unless you can pay your dept tonight then I can’t give you any more quintessence. I’m sorry.”

“What? No… I need some, tonight.” You could cut through the desperation with a butter knife; it was common in drug abusers. “Please, Red?”

“Orders are orders. If you pay up now you can have it, if not I’m going to have to ask you to leave, there are other clients I have to see tonight.” The lack of Keith’s real name always made it easier, the lack of friendship between the two even more so. However, even with the clear barrier between them it didn’t make it easier to pull out the gun and press the cold steel of the barrel against Rolo’s stomach.

“I don’t… I don’t have the money, please…” There had always been a huge difference between the Lions and the Galra. For one the Galra relied on fear and punishment, the Lions relied on trust, it’s the main reason why the Lions were so small and the Galra had grown so big, many of its members had been forced into this life.

“Then I suggest you leave, before I’m forced to use this,” Keith pressed the barrel of the gun harder into Rolo’s stomach. Fear was a common expression for Keith to witness, overtime he had become numb to the expression. Sympathy wasn’t a luxury he could afford.

 

***

 

“What will it be today?” Shiro had always enjoyed waiting at the bar; it had always been somewhat of a small distraction from everyday life. Being able to socialise with so many people, learn what is happening in other people’s lives had been a kind of meditation for him. There were so many stories available in place such as this, just from a way a person spoke, acted or looked there was so much to learn and Shiro loved that.

“Just the usual please, I’m on duty early tomorrow,” Lance, a common customer at Voltron, the largest bar in ton. Popular for its thriving atmosphere as well as the bar beneath which opened up only a month after prohibition began, one of the first and most popular in Brooklyn. Lance knew of the downstairs bar, he also knew a few of the members of the Lion gang, even though their careers clashed it didn’t stop them from growing a close friendship. Overtime they had made a deal, Lance would keep the downstairs bar a secret as well as the activity of the Lions and the Lions would feed him information of the underground.

“What’s it this time?” Shiro poured lance his usually, tonic and lime water, nothing special in fact it tasted absolutely disgusting but that is what made it seem so appealing.

“I should really say but…” Lance wiggled his finger as a sign for Shiro to come closer, the older of the two leaned over the bar, forearms helping his stay upright, “… Someone by the name of Rolo James was murdered only a few blocks from here, the Galra symbol was painted on the wall adjacent to the body. The murder took place in the Lions territory… Do you know why a Galra would risk coming into your territory?”

“They’ve come into our territory before to deal. The Galra have a habit of over stepping their boundaries to try and provoke members of the Lions, especially younger members. But murder? That would draw the police closer to our territory and in the process could cause some of our other operations to be jeopardised.” A fun night had been ruined by troubling news. Shiro ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the partially white strands from where it had knotted. “How was he murdered?”

“It wasn’t anything special, a bullet wound to the stomach. The victim most likely bled out, it was estimated that he died in the very early hours of the morning, maybe one or two. Even if he did cry out for help, no one around here would risk calling the police.” Lance sat back, having nothing else substantial to tell him. “That’s all I’ve got so far, I’m sorry, but without any eye witnesses or valid evidence… I can’t get much more, however if this investigation is going to bring risk to you I can do what I can to lead them away from your operations.”

Shiro gave Lance a kind smile, one he only gave to his close friends. “That’s alright; I wouldn’t want you to do anything to risk your job. I can alt operations for now. One last question, do you know what gun was used?”

“Eh… yeah, we could trace the bullet back to a C96 model, you know the really weird looking ones with a thin barrel and bulky handle. Why do you ask?” Something unreadable flashed across Shiro’s face, his flesh fist clenching.

“I can ask Pidge to cross reference the model with the underground weapons dealers. There’s a high probability that we won’t find anything, but for now it’s all we can do, excuse me?” Shiro pulled off the black towel that was tucked into his trouser waist, throwing it onto the bar. “Adam, cover my side please,” He called over to the other bartender. Something about Shiro had seemed to instantly switch, had it been something he said?

“Hey, Adam was it?” Lance called out to the new bartender who had immediately gone to cleaning the bar surface of the bar. He adjusted the glasses that had begun to slip down his nose before looking at Lance.

“Yes?” For such a slim and shy looking man he had a deep voice, it seemed to shock Lance for a moment.

“Do you… know what’s up with Shiro?” Lance traced the rim of his glass, he had barely even touched the drink, instead it just fizzed and popped, the ice slowly melting and the lime steadily sinking to the bottom.

“I’m… honestly not sure,” Adam gave a sigh, throwing the towel over his shoulder and adjusting the bow tie around his neck to make it slightly easier to breath. “It’s usually better though if you don’t ask, I’ve learnt to ease it out of him over time rather than ask plain out. Usually it’ll just cause him to bottle it even more. Just give it some time.”

“You seem close to Shiro, how long have you known him?” Lance raised a curious eyebrow, changing the conversation into something more casual and uplifting.

“Only a few years,” Adam spoke with a fond smile, but it was clear he was trying to force it away. “In all honesty he’s an easy person to get close to, he trusts people… well most people, he trusts people within reason.”

“You’re bushing. You guys together?” Adam’s eyes widened into an urgent panic, “Hey, don’t worry. For one I don’t really care and two, Lancey-Lance is great t keeping secrets.” The other man’s posture slowly relaxed, letting out a slow breath.

“God… It’s been so hard to keep it a secret, is it really that obvious?”

“You do realise I’m a detective, it’s my job to detect stuff,” Adam gave a soft laugh, rolling his eyes at Lance.

“You’re a true poet; I can see why Shiro likes you.” The two fell into a steady silence; the rest of the bar was full of loud laughing, heavy conversation and quiet whispers of smaller crowds. The background noise was comforting, it kept Lance’s mind busy while he drank.

 

***

_“Hey Shiro, can you teach me how to shoot?” Keith’s big eyes were begging, like a puppy stray asking for food._

_“How could I say no to those eyes,” Shiro chuckled, his whole torso bobbing. It was deep and gravely, juxtaposing those soft and calming eyes. Those eyes that comforted Keith in his panic attack. Those eyes that themselves disciplined him in a tantrum. Those eyes that, in the future would taunt him while he slept. “But why though? You seem better with a knife rather than a gun.”_

_“I don’t know, I guess I just want to be like you. The world is changing Shiro; everyone knows how to shoot a gun. Even granny Debbie next door knows how.” The two stood, walking to end of the garden that lay behind Alfor’s mansion; Shiro had inherited it after he died. Allura’s mother, Melanor, still lived in the home usually watching from the bedroom window over the two. She would knit or read in her wheelchair, a gentle smile on her wrinkled and old face._

_“Alright. Alright. I’ll teach you how to shoot,” He set up several empty beer bottles on a wooden shelf he had collected over time, saving them for target practice or teaching new members of the Lions. The mansion was seated on the borders of the city, meaning there was barely anyone around and barely one to either care or hear the sound of gunshot._

_“What are you doing?” Keith asked, curiously walking towards Shiro, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets._

_“I’m setting up a few targets for you.” He set out the last bottle and led Keith behind a line marked out by white string. “First, we’ll start with 5 meter; we need to work on your stance first.” Shiro handed Keith his gun, a C96 model first given to him by Alfor as a birthday present the year before he was killed. It had a small messaged engraved on the handle, it had yet to wear away over years of use. “Now, how should you stand?”_

_Keith awkwardly stood; gun held high and shoulders high. “Like this?” He asked, not turning to look at Shiro out of pure focus._

_“That’s… That’s just terrible,” Shiro chuckled, chest rising and falling. He placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder. He would never wear his prosthetic around him, it showed vulnerability and trust he had in the other, a bond they had grown over only a few years of friendship. In a sense they had become brothers. “For one; breathe. You’ll be no good in a good fight if you’re passed out on the floor all purple.”_

_Keith giggled, allowing him to relax into a much easier stance. “Okay, breath, got it.” His shoulders rolled back and he moved his feet into a better, more comfortable position._

_“There you go, much better, now…” Shiro stood behind Keith, hunched over to rest his chin on the others shoulder, closing his eye to get a better aim. “While you’re still practicing you’re going to have to close one eye and aim, however soon it’ll become natural to you. But that’s going to take plenty of time and practice.” Shiro moved his arms slightly to the left. “Now… pull back the- yep, like that. Now pull the trigger.”_

_The loud bang startled Keith and he fell back into Shiro, the much stronger of the two holding him up. Each of the bottles remained unharmed causing Keith to pout like a ten year old child._

_“Eh, you just need practice. A lot of practice apparently.” Shiro leant back, checking Keith’s stance before moving his head back to the other’s shoulder. “Alright, Lets go again.”_

_***_

“Shiro, you’ve been pacing up and down for the past half hour; its making me both anxious and nauseous,” Pidge hadn’t looked up from the papers strewn all over her desk since he had walked in, maybe the odd side eye glance every now and then. “Could you please sit down at least?”

Shiro gave a grumble as he sat down, running his hand over his face and rubbing his eyes with the balls of his palms. In the low light it was easier to see the bags under his eyes, dark circles making them seem much worse.

It was common for Shiro to lose sleep, his PTSD commonly kept him up at night. Instead of sleeping he would drink until he was too drunk to keep his eyes open. HE had tried sleeping remedies before, but either they didn’t work or didn’t keep him asleep long enough to reach morning. Adam did his best to help. Coaxing him out of nightmares and comforting him through panic attacks. He didn’t mind, in fact it was a reason they grew so close so quickly, Shiro soon began to rely on Adam and Adam relied on Shiro.

“Sorry,” Shiro spoke quietly, his head already hurting from trying to shift threw over grown vines within his head, desperate to reach some sort of conclusion.

“Are you okay?” Pidge finally looked up from the files on her desk, hesitating to walk over to Shiro and comfort him. They had been close for a while, but physical contact had never been common between the two of them in the first place.

“Yeah, there’s just a lot going on right now. My head is killing me,” Shiro moved to adjust his prosthetic arm, a habit he had grown into overtime from stress. The wood of the prosthetic would sometimes rub against his skin and he would let it irritate and rub the skin until it was raw and/or bleeding.

“Fancy a drink?” Matt walked in with a glass half full of scotch, placing it by Shiro’s side. Matt was another bar tender at Voltron, currently Pidge was the only one who didn’t work. He only worked on weekdays, spending the busy weekends with Pidge working on their own personal projects.

“Thank you, Matthew.” Shiro knocked the drink down in one, falling back in the chair while he kept the drink in his hand swirling the ice around the bottom.

“That rough of a night, huh?” Matt chuckled, sitting in a chair opposite Shiro and adjacent to Pidge, the desk light being the only thing to light the room. It was better for Shiro’s headache that way. “And I’ve told you before, just call me Matt, there’s no need to be so formal, old timer.”

_“Come on, old time.”_

“Don’t call me old time,” The harshness of his voice made the two siblings jump slightly; it was rare Shiro ever spoke with even the smallest hint of aggression. “Sorry, just please don’t call me that.”

“Yeah… No problem. Sorry, Shiro,” Matt spoke with sincerity yet the room still grew awkwardly quiet. The doors to the staff room did nothing to cover the sounds of the bar outside. On days like this, Shiro hated how lively the people were.

 

***

 

_“Come on, old timer.”_

_“Keith; slow down a bit.” They had been walking for hours on the outskirts of the city, Shiro had no idea why, he just dragged him out their perfectly comfy home and to the middle of nowhere._

_“You need to hurry up,” Keith ran back, grabbing Shiro by his arm and dragging him along until they made it to a semi-raised area. It was too high to be more plain land and too low to even be considered a hill. It was just a small mound._

_“Why are we here?” Shiro asked as he stood next to Keith, looking towards the now small seeming city in the distance. Perspective was surely an interesting thing, especially when it came to Keith._

_“To scream.”_

_***_


	2. Well, Detective?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, its Seb.
> 
> Firstly I'd like to mention a small DISCLAIMER for some parts of this book. Of course there will be heavy topics like drug use, alcohol abuse and possible mentions of homophobia, sexism and racism. This Fan-fiction is set in 1929, so please keep that in mind when reading if you come across anything offensive. I will be adding a disclaimer in the description of the book as well as adding and notices at the beginning of chapters. Just thought I'd let you know.
> 
> Don't forget to like, bookmark and comment, feedback is always the most interesting part.

_***_

 

_“Hey Shiro, when can I join the Lions?” The two were out in the garden again; Shiro was monitoring Keith as he shot several bottles off of the wooden shelf. Over time he had progressed to the ten meter mark and soon he would be able to use a much more heavy duty gun than a C96._

_“How about never?” Keith gave him a look. Eyes narrowed and arms crossed as he leant to one said. “Sorry kid, but I don’t want you to be dragged down to my level,” Shiro gave a sympathetic smile, letting out a small sigh as Keith’s expression didn’t falter. “You’re a good kid Keith, I don’t want you getting caught up in my kind of life, and it’s dangerous.”_

_“Then why teach me how to shoot? Why introduce me to everyone if you’re not even going to let me be a part of the Lions. Shiro, I know it’s dangerous and I don’t care.” Keith moved closer to Shiro, the gun discarded on the floor._

_“We aren’t arguing over this. I’ve made my decision and you need to accept that.” Shiro was raising his voice now; everything else seemed to grow quiet around them. His eyes were stern and jaw tight with broad shoulders dominating over Keith’s much smaller frame. The other male backed down, his head dropping to the floor._

_“Alright, I won’t be part of the Lions, but you aren’t going to kick me out completely,” Not much more was said after that, instead Keith went back to shooting bottles and Shiro went back to observing him._

_***_

“Lance, where are you on the most recent murder case?” Allura burst into Lance’s office unannounced. Her hand still resting to the doorknob as she spoke, not bothering to even walk inside and close the door for privacy. This was Allura’s usually attitude, she was constantly rushing around, never even taking a chance to breath.

“Oh, good morning Allura, how are you today? _‘I’m doing very well Lance, how are you?’_ Amazing Allura, I’ve just dug up some more evidence on the murder case we’ve been working on. ‘ _That’s brilliant Lance; in fact, I just came in here to ask you about that. What a coincidence?’_ ” Lance glared at Allura, his fingers fiddling with a pen as he spoke, or more like mocked, purposely putting on a terrible British accent to add affect.

“Lance, for one I do not say your name like that-“

“No, you do. You say my name like a rich, British person,” Lance stood from his desking; pushing back his chair in the process. He took a file from his desk and placed it in the hands of Allura with a cheeky smile.

“Don’t interrupt me, Lance,” She took the folder from him and used it to hit him over the head. It wasn’t meant to actually harm him, instead act as a warning. “Also, I don’t have time for your piss taking, the press are going to be here any second and if I don’t have a liable report then this entire department is going to be in trouble. If that is the case then I’m blaming you first.” The door to Lance’s office slammed shut, the tatty and old, beige blinds repeatedly hitting against the window with the amount of force the door was slammed.

“Nice to see you too,” Lance gave a sigh, running his ink stained hands over his face.

Truthfully, Allura was a nice person. She was one of the sweetest and kindest people Lance had ever met, however she was constantly stressed. With a position such as Allura’s, there wasn’t much time for her to slow down. It had taken her years to become the captain of her own police department and she wasn’t ever going to let that go.

It wasn’t long until the bustle of newspaper reporters invaded the office; Lance made the wise choice to close all the blinds in his own personal office and lock the door. Coran was the first to be tackled before Allura chose to step in. Despite her stereotypical role in society, Allura handled the situation well, ignoring the questions unrelated to the case and more focused on her fashion sense while answering those who actually cared about the case.

The flashes of cameras still streamed through the blinds, distracting Lance from his work. He was going to get nowhere with the ruckus outside, so he grabbed his coat and pushed past the journalists that were blocking the door, letting out a sigh when he escaped the crowd. Even only a few minutes were enough to give him a headache, he sympathised with Allura who had to deal with them head on.

The area the police station was located was a neutral zone, neither the Galra or the Lions were dumb enough to base any of their operations so close to a police station so it remained the safest area in Brooklyn. Opposite was Arus Park, known for being a safe haven of the streets. It was the only area parents would let their children play freely without having to watch them like a hawk, knowing that they were safe or at least safe enough.

“Mummy, I wanna play on the swings,” A little girl tugged at her mother’s hand, trying to lead her closer to the park’s play area. Lance chuckled from the park bench he sat at, trying not to look up at the pair; keeping his eyes trained on the work files on his lap.

“No Sweetie, we have to pick up daddy from work.” The mother spoke sweetly but it wasn’t hard to tell she was getting annoyed at her daughter’s whining.

“But mummy,” The girl pouted, looking more adorable than aggressive, her pink and white polka dot dress not helping her case.

“Maybe next time, sweetie.”

 

***

 

_“Mama,” Lance ran around the Mcclain home with no more than a pair of trousers and socks. He was a ten year old that knew no better. His mother sat at the family, dining table watching him with a sad smile. Lance scrambled onto one of the chairs, jumping up and down. “What does it say, what does it say? Is papa okay? Is he fighting all the bad men?”_

_Lance’s mother slowly nodded her head, “Yes, mijo. Papa is fighting all the bad men.” There were tears in her eyes, threatening to spill onto her cheeks, but she couldn’t cry, not in front of Lance. He was still too young to understand._

_“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.” Lance jumped up and down on the chair again before jumping off and running around the house again. His mother couldn’t hold it in anymore; she covered her mouth to muffle her cries from her children’s ears. She didn’t want to lie, but how could she tell her children._

_“He’s gone… isn’t he?” Veronica stood at the door, clutching the door knob with a tight fist. She was only a few years older than Lance, but she knew what was going on, for some one her age she was incredibly mature. Her mother didn’t speak; she didn’t even dare to open her mouth in case Lance heard her crying. Veronica was crying herself, but instead of lashing out like she was so desperate to do, she comforted her weeping mother. The letter lay crumpled on the table, Veronica didn’t even look at it, and she couldn’t bring herself to._

_“This shouldn’t have happened. Papa shouldn’t have had to fight for some stuck up American’s. This isn’t our war,” Veronica was lashing out; her accent had grown thick as she spoke through sobs._

_“Veronica please, Lance will hear.” Her mother stood, pulling Veronica into a hug as they cried. “Your papa wouldn’t want you to blame anyone.”_

_“Mama… What’s happening? Why are you crying?” Lance stood in the doorway, all excitement and joy gone, replaced by confusion and mirrored sadness._

__

 

_ Dear Rosa Mcclain, _

_We regret to inform you that your husband Private_ _Alejandro Mcclain was officially reported Killed In Action on June 18 th 1915._

_ Sorry for your loss. _

__

_ *** _

 

“Keith, Zarkon would like to see you now.” One of Zarkon’s personal assistants said to Keith, immediately walking away without giving him a second to even say ‘thank you’. His boss’ office was like it was ripped straight from a horror tale, something you would expect Count Dracula to have designed. The room was decorated in Blacks and purples, black out curtains covering the windows with only a few wall lamps to light the seemingly large room.

Despite the hilariously cliché setting of the room, it still managed to cause a rising anxiety to grow within Keith’s chest. The man sitting at the front of the room with his arms holding up his head didn’t help; Zarkon himself was a whole other type of frightening. His face was old and rough looking; a deep scar that lead from his left eye down to his jaw decorated his pale, almost grey skin. Wrinkles and creases framed his features, making his eyes look even more sunken. He dressed in a completely black suit, finished with a purple tie and silver cufflinks.

The man was as much of a mystery as he was a fierce leader. Very few dared to defy him and those who did either end up as his own personal chew toy or dead. Neither were great outcomes, in both opinion and fact.

“Keith, sit down,” The way Zarkon’s voice sounded was like pins and needles to your eardrums, there was something about it that sent shivers down one’s spine and caused your heartbeat to quicken at an astonishing rate.

Keith did as he was told, sitting in the chair opposite Zarkon’s desk. It was a simple dark wood chair, adorned with a royal purple coloured cushion, but that didn’t make it comfy, especially when he sat up straight like a board, his body completely tense to the point where it was almost comical.

“Relax; I’ve not called you here to punish you. In fact; I’ve brought you here to offer you a deal.” Zarkon stood, walking towards Keith like a predator. He circled him, hovering over his much smaller frame like a vulture over top its prey. “Now Keith, as a loyal member of the Galra I was almost shocked to hear that you killed a client within Lion territory. I understand you like to take matters into your own hands; however the thread of silk that holds back the war of our two… organisations is on the brink of collapsing. Currently war with the Lions is not something I care for-“

“Sir, I apologise-“

“QUIET.” Keith jumped in his seat, head lowering in submission and allowing the other to continue speaking. “As I was saying; I don’t care for a war right now, so I’m reassigning you.” Zarkon sat back in his chair, resuming his previous position. “I understand you used to be close with Takashi Shirogane, the current leader of the Lions. Could you… further explain your relationship for me?” It wasn’t a request and there were no keeping secrets from either Zarkon or the rest of the Galra, they knew every scrap of dirt on you.

“Shiro… was somewhat my mentor, a brother perhaps. He taught me everything I know about shooting and surviving in the real world, fighting with a blade is something I taught myself and actually went on to teach him. He became my guardian after adopting me. However he was hesitant to let me join the Lions, he claimed that he didn’t want me to end up in his style of life; apparently it was too dangerous for me. So… instead I joined you, in a way it was teenage retaliation but also a mix of wanting to prove myself to him.” Putting it into words was much harder than he believed it would be, especially when he was venting personal affairs to Zarkon.

“I was told your bond was close, a shame it didn’t end that way. I’ve been informed that a detective by the name of Lance Mcclain is a friend of Shiro’s, if you earn his trust you could possibly earn Shiro’s again.” Zarkon gave an almost wicked smile, a glint of childish mischief lingered in his eyes. “Get close to Detective Mcclain in any way you see fit, whether it be drinking buddies, friends, or lovers.”

“Lovers, Sir?”

“I don’t care if you choose to just talk to him or fuck him, as long as you get close to Shiro, that’s all I care about. Dismissed,” No further questions were either asked or answered; Keith left with a confused and scrambled head.

 

***

 

_“It’s a little cold to be out, don’t you think?” Weather in Brooklyn had always been harsh, but now that it was winter it only became worse. Keith only had a cardigan covering his fragile torso on top of a thin and tattered shirt. He wasn’t wearing trousers; instead he wore shorts that just fell past his knees. They were baggy and possibly a size too big for him._

_“Move along, Old timer,” Shiro was taken back by Keith’s words for a moment before laughing. It was a deep, hearty laugh._

_“Feisty one aren’t you, kid?” Shiro moved his umbrella to shield the both of them, but of course allowed Keith full protection from the rain while letting his own, exposed shoulder get wet in the process._

_“I’m not a kid.” Keith stood from the street floor, hands balled in fists as he glared at the much taller male._

_“Sure thing. How old are you? Nine… Ten?” Shiro was enjoying riling up Keith, it was just adorable to watch him pout._

_“I’m eleven.”_

_“Well, nice to meet you eleven. I’m Shiro,” He held his hand out for Keith to shake only for it to be swatted away, Keith growling in the process. Shiro only laughed again, unable to stop the smile from growing. Keith couldn’t stop his own smile from forming, but he covered it with an annoyed huff._

 

_***_


	3. New High, New Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I just wanted to thank you all for the support. I'm really enjoying this, its been a while since I've properly sat down and began writing.
> 
> Little UPDATE, I'll try and get a chapter out at least once a week, however I'm in the last year of school so shit will be kind of busy at times.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy chapter 3.
> 
> Don't forget to like, comment your opinions/suggestions.

 

Quintessence was a strange kind of drug and an incredibly rare one at that, however Keith had a direct connection to the suppliers, that being the Galra. Included with his weekly payment he would receive several packets of quintessence in its powder form. There were several ways you can take Quintessence; the most popular being snorting it in lines, the least but still incredibly effective, although somewhat unpleasant, being taking a small amount and rubbing it on your gums.

However, to obtain the highest effect of quintessence one would inject a liquid form of the drug directly into their blood stream. This was Keith's method, although he had only been doing it for a few months and was still somewhat sloppy with the process. Heating up the powder was a fairly slow and drawn out process. A gram or two was placed on a metal spoon, a lighter underneath to heat the end of the spoon like a pan. Once melted the purple powder became a bright yellow and you knew it was ready, it was actually quite a mesmerising process.

Keith always made sure that the needle he would use was sterile, he may have been a drug user, but he was still slightly conscious of his body’s health. He never let himself get worked up enough to rush this process, after all Quintessence was considered a class A drug and a small or simple miss use would end badly. After taking up the liquid quintessence within the body of the syringe, he would flick the needle gently while tilting it upwards to get rid of any trapped air.

Keith tied a belt around his left forearm, trapping the blood flow before slowly pushing in the needle and injecting the drug directly into his arm. He threw the syringe onto the coffee table, the belt soon joining it before he fell back on the hard sofa cushions and stared up at his water stained, apartment ceiling.

A long sigh left his lips as the drug took effect. It felt like all of his limbs had become weightless and his head completely cleared, almost as if he was becoming detached from his body, like an out of body experience. He could move his limbs but they felt heavy when he tried, as if he was moving through water. His body was floating on nothing.

Keith closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander to his imagination. In his head he was surrounded by nothingness; a white light that felt warm yet cold at the same time. His body was tingling like it as on fire. It was a feeling that couldn't be replicated by any other drug found on the market, legal or illegal market, that's how it had become so popular and addictive.

 

***

 

_"KEITH!" Shiro's shouting hurt his ears; he covered them with the palms of his hands as he stumbled through the front door, red eyed and mind-fucked. He was too high to properly register Shiro's voice. "Where the hell have you been? Jesus fucking Christ," It didn't take a genius to see how angry Shiro was; a vein in his forehead was practical erupting at the sight of Keith._

_Apart from the obvious state of his eyes, his face was completely pale and almost green looking, accompanied by scruffy clothing and messy hair. His clothing reeked of sweat, sex and alcohol, neither one of them being pleasant. Keith was a complete wreck from top to bottom._

_"'M sorry... Sh-shiro," He only just managed to get the words out; each one was completely slurred and almost incoherent, it took a minute for Shiro to try and decipher what he had said._

_"That didn't answer my question," Shiro was too concerned to continue being angry. He cradled Keith in his arms; letting Keith register the other’s close proximity before lifting him up and carrying him to the closest bathroom. "Tell me in the morning, for now let's actually sort you out. You smell disgusting."_

_He soaked Keith's face in cold water to try and wake him up, even though the plan failed it did get rid of some of the grime from the other's Face and messy bangs. His hair was tied up in a ponytail, which overtime had become knotted and tangled around the elastic tie, making it next to impossible to pull out and brush_.

_The strands were greasy and stunk of the events Keith had been to, putting some unwanted images and thoughts in Shiro's head, each more unpleasant than the last. After undressing him down to his briefs and dressing him back up into something more bed appropriate he took him to his room, laying Keith down on the crimson bed covers and pulling the duvet overtop of him._

_Hopefully Keith would thank him in the morning, if he could even speak for his head being stuck in a toilet bowl and throwing up yesterday's food. It would be wishful thinking, but that's what Shiro usually looked for; it was all he had left after all._

 

***

 

After spending hours sat, hunched over a desk in a dark and dusty room Lance craved something to soothe his itchy throat. Unfortunately with the impending work still piled high waiting for him early tomorrow morning, given to him by the one and only Allura, something on the more spicy side was off the table. Voltron was closed on Wednesdays anyways, it was their weekly meeting; something a detective like him would be able to stick his nose into. Shiro did have some boundaries when it came to areas of his work and Lance respected that.

Lance's plan B when it came to an after work drink was 'The Balmera', a quaint little bar located on the very edge of the neutral territory. It was common to see both Galra and Lion members inside, however even with the two groups being rivals, they respected the neutral area’s rules, especially when it came to Shay. She was a kind young woman, but she could send any man flying out those double doors.

Weekdays were usually quiet, but something about today seemed extra noisy. For once Lance wished things would go his way; unfortunately the universe was never that kind to him.

"Rough day?" Lance was quickly brought back to reality as a voice spoke next to him. His finger was taken away from the rim of his glass that he had been tracing and instead Lance decided to rest it on the table, trying not to seem bored out of his mind. "Mind if I sit?" The stranger gestured to the empty seat opposite Lance, the worn, purple chair now seeming even lonelier than before.

"I don't mind, a bit of company might be nice," Lance spoke as he took in the stranger’s appearance. His hair was long, especially his bangs that hung over his eyes. The ebony black contrasted almost perfectly with his paper white skin, but what stood out most were his eyes, deep amethyst eyes with little flecks of light blue and lilac around the pupil.

"Are you going to stare at me all night?" The stranger joked, a soft smile gracing chapped lips. "If that's the case can I at least get a name?"

"Lance," He blurted it out like a bumbling idiot, brain already fizzled out from a hard day’s work and barely able to function.

The stranger gave another small chuckle at his antics, before holding his hand out to shake. "Keith." An alias would of been preferred, however if he was going to gain the trust of Shiro as well as Lance, he would have to be honest from the start. "So what brings you here, Lance?"

If he didn't know any better, Lance would say Keith had a somewhat flirty tone to his words; unfortunately Lance was off his game tonight. "Oh you know… just endless piles of paper and horrible, manila folders. What about you? I haven't seen you here before."

"Eh, work has been dragging on as per usual. It's becoming a bit of a drag at my old place anyway, I needed something fresh," Keith took a small sip of his drink, frowning at the taste. "After the prohibition nothing tastes good anymore, I miss a good beer."

"Didn't they have an underground bar at your old place?"

"I could never get in. They only let in the friends and close family of the bartenders, so no one else could get in. Kind of stingy, but what can you do?"

"I could report them to my superior and get them shut down," Admittedly Lance used his career as a sort of bragging tactic when it came to dates, it would mostly work perfectly.

"Are you a cop or something?"

"Detective, like a cop but I get to do all the cool Sherlock Holmes shit." Keith gave a small chuckle, showing the small dimples either side of his cheeks. "What about you? What do you do?"

"I work in a pharmacy. Honestly it's just bullshit and made up remedies with fancy sounding names, most of it doesn't work," Keith gave a small shrug of his shoulders, looking to the side as he spoke.

"Well if I ever get sick I know who not to go to." Lance smirked. For once he was glad that Voltron was closed, it was nice to see another face. He loves his friends, but the same company does get somewhat boring and repetitive after a while. "Where abouts do you live anyway, I haven't seen you here or back at Voltron Do you live in the Galra district?"

Keith worried at his lips slightly as he gave a faint nod. "Yeah, I live on the edge of town? I haven’t been to the neutral zone in a while, it's actually... refreshing."

"Refreshing? Is the Galra territory really that bad?"

Keith's lips and eyebrows quirked as if he was thinking to himself, "It has its moments. The Galra territory is definitely a lot more... managed when it comes to Galra business and there's always someone watching you from every Street corner so... coming to the neutral zone is definitely a lot more freeing. Like there's a weight being lifted off my shoulders.”

"Why not go to the Lion's territory? It's a lot more relaxed." Lance had finished his drink, leaving him to wait until the ice had the bottom of the glass has melted before he could take another sip.

"This is the Galra we're talking about, you can't expect to go to Lion’s territory and then come back without being interrogated and striped of all privacy until they've decided you're not a spy."

People in the bar were deciding it was time to go home; a lot of its occupants had begun to leave. It had settled from loud laughter and conversation to more hushed whispers and quite chuckles.

"Damn, I didn't realise the time," Lance muttered more to himself than Keith, looking at the cheap, second-hand watch on his left wrist.

"Yeah, sorry for keeping you, but I enjoyed our conversation... want to continue another time?" They each stood, Keith holding out his hand for Lance to shake. He took the offer and Keith surprised him with how strong his grip was.

"Of course, same time tomorrow or are you busy?"

"No, I'm free tomorrow. It was nice meeting you Lance."

 

***

 

"So… Is there anything new to report from Ulaz?" Shiro tapped his fingers against the leather chair; his posture slouched as he drank from the whiskey glass. The drink itself had long gone and the ice was melted, yet Shiro still twirled it; a habit he had grown over years of drinking on the job.

"Unfortunately, no... We’ve actually lost contact with Ulaz." Kolivan stood in the middle of the room before Shiro, hands behind his back and spine completely straight. It wasn't hard to tell he was Ex-military; they had been beat into shape over the years they have served and it always lead to the same result. Kolivan was a perfect example.

"Understood," there was always little grieving when it came to the loss of a member. If they were lucky the body would be found, however any one that went undercover to spy on the Galra knew they were going on a suicide mission. The bodies were rarely found and if they were... it was never a pretty sight. “And Thace?"

"Currently Thace isn't in a high enough command for him to relay us any valuable information."

"Any information is valuable, even if it's just smaller drug deals or weapons trade, I still want to know."

Kolivan nodded towards Shiro, "Understood, Shiro. I'll inform him next time we meet."

"Thank you, dismissed." Kolivan left without another word, his face looked displease however that was just the usual look he always wore. Age didn't suit him well.

"We're losing a lot of valuable members Shiro and I'm getting nowhere with what I have." Pidge spoke up from the corner of the room, her crossed legs surrounded by papers and pencils used for scribbling down messy and incoherent notes. She groaned, letting her head hit the wall with a dulled 'thud'.

"I know Katie. The informant won't be here for another week possibly less? But he should have some information for you..."

"Thank you," Pidge smiled up at Shiro before turning back to the papers on her lap, rubbing her tired eyes a few times to try and focus on the words.

"Maybe you should head to bed, it's getting late," Shiro placed the emptied glass on his desk, picking up his pen to focus on his own work.

"Yeah. I'll leave my mess for you to clean up," Pidge stood, wobbling slightly from being so tired before walking to the door. "Goodnight Shiro, don't stay up all night. You need sleep to."

"Goodnight Katie." Shiro sighed once he was alone, running his hand through his hair out of habit. His prosthetic had begun to dig into his shoulder, making the skin red and irritated.

With the mix of the tinnitus in his left ear and the pain in his shoulder it was hard to focus on the paper in front of him. Contracts, drug deal plans, money loans; it was too hard to add up with such a foggy and confused head.

"Takashi, you're over working yourself again," Shiro lifted his head as Adam came in; arms crossed and a disapproving look on his face.

"I'm sorry; I'll be going to bed soon. I promise," A yawn escaped Shiro's lips.

"You can finish it tomorrow morning, but for now you need to rest or you won't be able to do any work what so ever," Adam walked behind him as he stayed seated in the leather chair, allowing his lover to remove the dress shirt to easier reach his prosthetic. He unclasped the straps and placed the arm on the desk before tending to the irritated skin with small kisses. "You need to be more careful with your prosthetic, the doctor said to only wear it a few hours a day, not all day."

"I know, but that’s why I keep you around. Without you I wouldn’t be able to look after myself," Shiro gave Adam a tired smile, earning a gentle kiss on his lips. He enjoyed intimate moments like this, when they were alone together Shiro always felt at peace with Adam.

"The world would burn if I wasn't by your side; we all know how you are in the kitchen." Adam worked as Shiro's shoulders and neck, massaging the tense and knotted muscle until they were completely loose and relaxed.

"Hey, that was one time." He placed his hands on Adam's, stopping him for a moment. "I love you," Adam."

"I love you too, Takashi."

 

***

 

_"If you could go anywhere in the world... where would you go?" It was raining outside, Daily gun practise was off of the table and there was nothing else to do in the house apart from read. Boredom seemed more interesting to Keith than some shitty romance novel from 1890._

_"I don't know... maybe England? Maybe I can get an actual, legal job there," Shiro looked up at Keith from the book he was reading, marking the page and closing it before placing it on his lap. "Why, where would you go?"_

_"An island all by myself," His answer was quick and simple, not even bothering to take his eyes off of tracing the rain drops that ran down the large, living room window pane._

_"Can I at least visit you?" Thunder sounded, catching Keith off guard for a moment._

_"Maybe if you're not too busy in England," Keith moved over to sit next to Shiro, resting his head on the other's shoulder as his eyes shut. "When do you think the rain will stop so we can get back to practise?'_

_"Give it some time, we'll have to wait until the garden dries a bit anyway or we'll be trying to shoot bottles while sinking into the ground.”_

_"You're making stuff up again, Shiro." Keith tried to sound annoyed yet the smile on his face betrayed him. It was times like these where everything was at peace._

 

***


	4. This Wasn't How it was Meant to Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late-ish upload, but enjoy. Our boys get a little... personal.

Ulaz’s body was found hanging by his neck from Brooklyn Bridge less than a mile from the borders of New York and it wasn’t a pretty sight. The man had been stripped completely naked, ripped of all his dignity. His left leg was barely hanging on by only a few ligaments; every part of his body was beaten and bloodied. His face wasn’t even recognisable; Shiro had only known it was Ulaz by his back tattoo. He was missing his right eye and several teeth had been ripped out most likely with pliers.

That was barely scratching the surface.

An autopsy report would take a few days and Slav enjoyed taking his time, however it was clear to see Ulaz had been tortured to death, the amount of tortured he had been through was… immeasurable. It definitely wasn’t suicide; he had been hanging from Brooklyn Bridge – not by a rope – but by a large meat hook that had been melded to the Bridge itself. Whoever had done this had a clear message. Beside the body they had written in, most likely, Ulaz’s blood ‘Vrepit Sa’ the Galra solute. They were mocking both Ulaz and the lions.

Lance had come to Shiro the second the photos were done processing. Despite it technically being classified information it wasn’t something he could keep from Shiro, Ulaz had been good and loyal man even from the very few times he had met him. Being the type of man he is Lance struggled to keep conversations with Ulaz, but from what he could tell he was stoic, serious and kept to himself. It was both a surprise and a disappointment that the man had a family, later he would have to deliver the news to Ulaz’s wife and daughter, explaining how he died will be the lowest moment of his life.

Shiro offered him a drink and Lance gladly accepted, downing the beverage in one gulp. The burning sensation hit the back of his throat and warmed his stomach, the after taste not helping with the nauseous feeling that had spread over his whole body. Seeing such a horrific sight this early on a Thursday morning had completely destroyed him.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention so early, especially after it’s seemed to affect you so badly,” Shiro spoke as he poured Lance another drink as well as one for himself. They both needed it, “I understand that Ulaz had a family, I’ll financially support them until they’re able to support themselves.” It wasn’t something he needed to say, but Lance needed the assurance.

“Thank you…” It took a while for the detective to make eye contact with Shiro, he could see the photos strewn on the messy desk from the corner of his eye, it took everything in him not to turn his head and look at them again. “Where does this leave the conflict between the Lions and the Galra?”

“It’s too early to say. Once word breaks out of a Lion’s death by the hands of the Galra it’ll be hard to keep everyone under control. We can assume the Galra would suffer a similar issue since Ulaz was a spy… in a way there is a small positive. Trust between the Galra will be almost completely decimated, yet it’s nowhere near worth losing a life for.” Shiro’s eyes were soft yet there was an underlying pit of anger and hatred.

“It’s best not to dwell,” Adam sat in the corner of the room, legs crossed as he sat in an ugly patterned chair, a book in hand. He had been listening in to the conversation the entire time yet still pretended to read throughout it. Lance was a detective, nothing slipped past him. “Ulaz was a great man and I’m sure he will be remembered and respected by each of our members, it’s just unfortunate he had to suffer so much before his death.” The room fell into silence for a few moments as the other two processed Adam’s words. After the tragic news their minds had become rather slow and sluggish.

“Will you be joining us tonight?” Shiro spoke up rather suddenly causing Lance to jump in his seat.

“Oh. Unfortunately no. I’m meeting a friend at the Balmera tonight,” Lance gave him an apologetic smile as he stood, grabbing his coat from behind the chair and throwing it over his shoulders. “He lives in Galra territory so it wouldn’t exactly be safe for him to be seen in a well know Lion meeting point.”

“Just be careful Lance, with the position you’re in… the Galra would love to get their hands on you.”

“I will Shiro, don’t worry about me. I’m a detective for a reason.”

 

***

 

The night air nipped at Keith’s nose as he stood outside the Balmera, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets to keep them somewhat warm despite the jacket being so thin. The cigarette helped keep him warm, but the smoke didn’t help his parched mouth and it scratched at his sore throat. He had been waiting for Lance for little over ten minutes and he was getting slightly anxious. It wasn’t that Lance was late; in fact they hadn’t made plans for an exact time.

“You look like you’re freezing to death,” Lance startled Keith as the other rounded the corner, a wide smile on his face. “How long have you been out here? Were you waiting for me?”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t know whether we were going to meet inside or out.” Keith shrugged, now realising the fault in his logic. Lance chuckled at him as he un-wrapped the faded blue scarf from his neck, throwing it around Keith’s instead.

“Here, wear this. I don’t want you freezing to death.”

The inside of the bar was warm, the source emanating from the somewhat out of place fire opposite to the drinks wall, the mantel charred black over the years, a few odd trinkets littering the top that had no significance even to the owner. Despite it seeming so odd in a place like this, it was welcome around winter time.

The two sat at the booth in the corner of the room just like before, enjoying the privacy it had despite the bar being crowded. They had gotten drinks when they first walked in, Keith adding a little something extra to their glasses to add some warmth.

“I read the news; they don’t seem to like you very much.”

Lance chuckled as he sat back in the seat, propping his leg up on his thigh. “You’re not wrong. I’m guessing you were reading The Olkarion, they haven’t liked us very much since we locked up their boss for the possession of cocaine.”

“Damn, but I guess who wouldn’t be mad at you for getting them into a major drug scandal.” Keith tucked one of his side bangs behind his ear, resting his arms on the table as he leant forward.  “I heard they almost went out of business, but I guess reports on the matter from other news sources are a bit biased.”

“Most are. They like to nick pick at different facts rather than the whole truth, especially when they’re paid too. When it comes to gang crime, usually news reporters will be paid to change names, ages and appearances to keep members safe, it’s usually only high level members though, the don’t really care about the little guys.”

“You sure seem to know a lot about them.”

“Well I kind of have to, it is my job after all,” Keith chuckled, his leg brushing against Lance’s slightly and staying there. Neither seemed to mind or notice, in fact it was a comfortable type of contact.

As the two talked about useless drabble the bar around them slowly began to drown out. A lot of its occupants had either left or passed out. Last drinks were being served before everyone would be kicked out. Keith and Lance were a little more than buzzed. Keith’s flask had been emptied between them. They were both a giggly mess, exchanging one too many glances and playful pushes.

“Alright boys, I’m closing up. Either you two get out or I throw you out,” Shay began to take the empty glasses from their table, rolling her eyes at the two’s antics. But she paid them both no more mind as they both left, barely any space between them.

 

***

 

“Pidge, you’ve been up for hours. Isn’t it time you went to bed, it’s getting late anyways.” Matt stood at the doorway to Pidge’s room with her back facing him. She was hunched over the desk, propping up her hear with her hands. Her room was a mess, paper scattered the floor with ripped manila envelopes thrown into the bin, a few missing in the process. “Your room is a mess; you’re practically living in a rubbish heap.”

“Matt… shut up.” Pidge stood from her desk, turning off the table lamp. Her words took the brother by surprise; her voice was practically dripping with venom as she spoke. “I found some more information on dad’s murder-“

“Pidge…”

“-It was a member of the Galra. I don’t have an exact name; they just called him by some stupid nickname.”

“Galra? But dad had nothing to do with them or the lions. He had nothing to do with anyone.”

“I know and that’s what I don’t understand… I don’t have any way of double checking it; for all I know it could be fake but… Matt if this is true then it’s just another reason to go to war with them, they’ve taken innocent lives. We have to tell Shiro.”

“Pidge, calm down. I know this is important to you – it’s important to me too – but tomorrow. We’ll tell him tomorrow. Okay?” Matt was holding onto Pidge’s shoulders, looking her in the eyes in hopes of trying to get some sense into her.

Pidge let out a sigh, taking off her glasses to rub her eyes. “Okay, tomorrow. But we’re doing it first thing. I’m not waiting any longer.”

 

***

 

This wasn’t how it was meant to go, but Keith didn’t have any intention of stopping Lance as he pushed him to the bed and climbed on top of him. This was wrong on so many levels. Lance could lose his job for this if word got out and Keith could lose the respect of everyone. But… who was here to witness the two of them?

They were both drunk and both fumbling and clumsy messes. Each kiss was messy, yet somehow they were dying to have another taste of each other. Keith tugged and pulled at Lance’s shirt to get him closer and wrapped his legs around his lower torso.

“Off,” Keith whispered, pulling harder at the other’s shirt. Lance quickly obliged, throwing the fabric to the floor, Keith’s shirt quickly joining it. Keith crawled backwards, moving further up the bed, kicking the covers away as he went. The two quickly got more desperate; shredding clothing in between grinding and pressing their bodies together. The headboard gently tapped against the wall as they moved, the sound increasingly getting louder,

Lance kissed and sucked at Keith’s neck, making him whine and squirm against the other. “Shush… My neighbours will hear you.” Lance whispered, placing his hands over Keith’s mouth to quieten him. Keith slowly nodded his head, whining against his head. “Turn around, keep your mouth shut.”

Keith turned over, his head pressing into the singular pillow while pushing his hips upwards. It took him by surprise when he felt Lance lips press against his entrance. He jolted forward from shock, pulling his hips out of Lance’s hands.

“What are you doing?” Keith whispered, remembering to keep his voice down.

“Trust me; it’ll hurt more if you don’t let me. We can stop if you want?” The fogginess of the alcohol had almost worn off; they were in complete control of both themselves and each other.

“Okay… I trust you,” Keith let Lance take his hips back in hands, his lips moving back as well. It felt weird at first as his tongue brushed against such a sensitive area, but soon he was writhing in pleasure, pushing harder against Lance’s mouth.

Keith used to the pillow to mute his whimpers and moans as Lance pushed a finger inside of his, a second joining only a few seconds after. He rocked his hips back repeatedly against them, arching his back as his body jolted with small shocks of pleasure. He whined when they were taken away, but the tip of something much bigger took their place.

“I’ll go slowly. Tell me when you want more, but remember to stay quiet.” Lance slowly pushed his hips forward. It hurt at first as it forced his muscles to stretch, causing him to wince. Lance gave Keith a moment to adjust before moving his hips, only gently at first.

“Faster,” Keith moved to an upright position, it wasn’t as comfy for his knees, but it didn’t hurt as much. As lance’s hips moved faster Keith’s moans grew louder, forcing him to bite into his hands to mute himself. It didn’t help that the man behind him was biting and sucking at his neck, his free hand rubbing him in time to his thrusts.  “Harder.”

The tension quickly built in the pit of his stomach, each thrust bringing it closer to releasing.  “Lance I-“He didn’t have a chance to warn Lance as the knot unravelled and he came, staining the bedsheets beneath them.  Lance chose to pull out at the last second, cumming on Keith’s back.

“Sorry,” Lance muttered, pressing kisses down Keith’s neck as he held the other up. Keith was shaking like a leaf, his body over sensitive from pleasure.

“It’s fine… I’m sorry for ruining your sheets.”

Lance chuckled, laying the other on the mattress, “I’ll get some tissues for you. Stay the night if you want.” He moved off of the bed, shuffling through a draw until he found a packet of tissues. “You know… I couldn’t help but notice the mark on your back… You didn’t tell me you were with the Galra.” Keith instinctively moved his hand over his left shoulder blade, covering the distinctive branding mark.

“Was… I was with the Galra.” Curse Keith for being a drunken mess. Curse him for being so stupid.

“Care to explain or… is it something you’d rather keep to yourself?”

“No… it… it’s fine,” Keith had never felt so vulnerable; his back was literally exposed as Lance cleaned him. He had felt vulnerable multiple times, most of those occasions being with Shiro. “Honestly it was something I now regret… Despite me only ever being a lower member, it’s not something I’m proud of. I dealt drugs a few times; I did drugs many times… The only reason I could leave was because I was so low in the Galra’s rankings. The money was… decent, but to get that money was… not pleasant.”

Lance looked sceptical, but nodded. He was too tired and tonight had been too nice, there was no use in ruining it. “Thank you for telling me.” He sat next to Keith on the bed, lifting his chin up and pulling him in to a gentle kiss. “I’ve met a few people who’ve been through the same so I’d like to say I understand what you’ve been through.”

Keith leant against Lance as they laid back in the bed, grimacing at the feeling of the covers. It wasn’t the most pleasant thing, they’d just have to avoid that patch of bedding. Keith muttered another faint ‘sorry’ as he cuddled up to Lance, the other wrapping his arm around him in an almost protective way.

 

***


	5. A Heart Full of Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its a bit late, but there was some extra plot I wanted to sneak in there.
> 
> Please leave in the comments what you think so far and if there's anything you'd like me to add or change about characters relationships, I love hearing feedback.

 

Over the years Pidge had known Shiro the one thing that had never changed about him was his inability to change, that included his office. Nothing had ever changed about it since the first day he had bought the place. It was the same tacky, deep purple and violet wallpaper, the same scratchy and poorly edged carpet, even the newspaper was the same, the date at the top reading seven years ago from last week.

It was common knowledge that Shiro wasn’t a huge fan of the news, it was how they depicted the life of gang members that always set him on edge, always needing another scotch to calm the slowly boiling anger within his stomach. Adam had heard a fair few of his rants, always claiming “ _bullshit”_ at even the smallest details that were wrong, but it made Adam laugh.

There was only a singular reason why that newspaper was kept on Shiro’s desk, never being thrown away. It was the front page article, in bold letter read “ _KING OF LIONS, ALFOR, ASSINATED_ ”. Shiro didn’t know how many times he had read the article, but each time the pain got a little easier to handle, but it would never truly be easy.

Despite it drawing close to a decade since Alfor’s passing, Shiro was still grieving and he would be for many years to come. Alfor had saved Shiro from himself; saved him from a drug addiction that would have ended his life years ago. Despite never meeting him, Adam would always thank Alfor for saving Shiro; he was the love of his life and he wouldn’t have any idea what to do without him.

Neither Pidge nor Matt knocked on his office door; instead they burst in without warning. “Pidge… Matt! I wasn’t expecting you so early,” Shiro stood from his desk, surprised to see such serious and angry expressions from the both of them. “What’s wrong?”

“We know who killed our father,” Pidge didn’t hesitate with her words, catching both Shiro and Matt off guard for a moment.

“We don’t have a real name, but instead we have an alias and we know that they work for the Galra. We were hoping that maybe you or someone part of Kolivan’s blades would be able to find out,” Matt was the calmer one of the two, assessing the situation and already coming up with plans ‘A’ through ‘E’. Pidge on the other hand was shaking, her fists clenched by her side like she was ready to punch someone if they got close to her.

“I’ll see what I know, Kolivan’s blades on the other hand… you’d have to ask him yourself, I have no power over the blades we simply work in alliance. It would be hard to convince him to gather that information… especially after what happened with Ulaz.”

“That’s understandable, but he must realise we’ve been trying to find this person for years.”

“I know, but Kolivan’s main priority is to keep his men as safe as possible. Gathering information that doesn’t benefit either them or the Lions won’t be prioritised if they even consider it at all. This may lead to a dead end.”

Pidge looked like she was about to burst; Matt seemed to be a lot better at containing his anger. “Can _you_ at least help us? You know more about the Galra than the Galra themselves.”

“Of course. Their alias… what was it?”

Pidge was the one to answer, gritting her teeth as she spat the name like venom, however it wasn’t how she said it that caught Shiro of guard, it was the name itself. Familiar yet so incredibly distant. The two saw how Shiro tensed, his brows furrowing in thought. It took too long for him to answer; it was obvious that he knew something.

“No, I haven’t heard that name before.” Shiro, turned to face away from him, hiding his lying tell despite the action being useless. “Now, if you’ll please excuse me… I have some work to do.” Pidge was about to dart forward and question Shiro further but Matt held her back, trying to keep a neutral expression on his face rather than lash out like his younger sister.

“Thank you, Shiro. We’ll see ourselves out.”

Matt dragged his sister away; ignoring the complaints and insults he received from doing so. People looked at him strangely from all the noise the younger one was making as they passed; it wasn’t until they were actually outside that Pidge was finally quiet.

“What are you doing?” Pidge growled at him, her expression absolutely furious, “He knows something, you saw the way he just froze.”

“I know Pidge, I saw. However… it’s obvious scars run deep, we aren’t going to get anything out of him… well anymore out of him,” Matt gave Pidge a small smirk, raising his eyebrows slightly in hopes she’d catch on.

“What are you saying Matt? I’m not telepathic.”

Matt gave a small sigh, folding his arms. “Whoever murdered our father; Shiro knows them on a personal level, or at least he did. My guess; it was someone he knew growing up and instead betrayed him, joining the Galra rather than the lions.”

“But that wouldn’t make sense, why would they join the Galra? Shiro wouldn’t just cast them out, he’d let them join the Lions or at least protect them. Shiro shields the people he loves, in some cases a little too much.” Pidge shook her head, making a disgruntled noise. “We need more information on Shiro if we’re going to get anywhere.”

“So what… we ask Adam? He knows Shiro better than anybody in the world.”

“No. Adam doesn’t like to talk about Shiro’s past either; he’s too loyal to him. If we want to get anywhere… Why not sneak into his office, he keeps a lot of personal information there.”

“Pidge, are you crazy? He’d kill us.”

“Only if he found out, besides it’s worth the risk. Listen, Adam works the bar tonight so they’ll be here later than usual, but Adam will force Shiro home just after midnight to get some rest. We’ll go in then.”

 

***

 

_“Shiro… I need to tell you something.” It was another rainy day and the two were stuck inside, it had been a year since Allura and Shiro’s mother had passed away, the house felt so much emptier now. Despite Shiro and Melanor not being related by blood, she had still been the perfect parental figure for Shiro and having lost Alfor as well just a few years prior was also incredibly painful for the both of the, it became something they bonded over. But alas, he had Keith, in a way he had become the parent of the house._

_Shiro placed his book down, giving Keith his full attention as he always would when the other spoke. Despite Keith never really making sense a lot of the time, Shiro had learnt to listen, there was always some sort of meaning to what he would say._

_“What is it?” Shiro sat up in his chair, placing the book to one side. Keith wasn’t sat at the window, he was stood tense and stiff like a pillar, fumbling with his fingers and cracking the bones individually, repeatedly doing the same action and pulling on the joints. “Did something bad happen? Are you okay?”_

_This wasn’t some Keith ordinary nonsense; there would be no hidden meaning. This was something serious and it was taking everything Keith had to tell Shiro. It was rare to see Keith so scared, there had only been a few other occasions where he had been this timid and frightened._

_“Everything’s fine, I-I’m okay it’s just…I-I… It…” Keith looked frustrated with himself; he couldn’t seem to get the words out how he wanted to. In the end the end he resorted to show and tell. Shiro was confused at first when Keith began unbuttoning his shirt, as anyone should be, however when Keith turned around and dropped the back of the shirt just past his shoulder blades… it made sense._

_“Keith, what have you done?” His voice came off more hurt then angry, but of course he was furious. Burnt into Keith’s skin was the Galra mark. It still looked somewhat fresh, possibly only a week or two old. The skin was still red and slightly irritated and it was just scabbing over, a few pieces of fresh skin only just breaching through._

_“You said I couldn’t join the Lions-“_

_“So instead you joined the fucking Galra? Did you not listen to a fucking thing I said,” Keith had only ever heard Shiro swear once in his life, it was when he dropped a burning hot baking tray on his pinkie toe. Despite the injury, he earned a warning slap on the shoulder from Melanor._

_“What choice did you give me Shiro? I’ve never been to school, no one would hire me for a labour job because of my height and besides, who wants to hire the Lion’s little bitch anyway?”_

_“Keith, that’s enough.”_

_“No, it’s not. Shiro, you’ve locked me away and kept every eye you have on me since you found me on the streets. I’ve seen your men watching me whenever I leave this place; they follow me where ever I go. You don’t care about me Shiro, you care about your reputation and how good you look taking in the street rat no one else wanted. I’m thankful for what you have given me, but this is too much for me to handle anymore. I’m not the little kid you took in from the streets anymore, I’m old enough to make my own decisions and one of them was to join you and the Lions… but no, you treated me like some poor princess and locked me up in a tower.”_

_Shiro listened to Keith, his face moving through each and every emotion. He didn’t know what to say, it was too much to take all at once. His lips moved but nothing came out._

_“Keith, I’m-“_

_“No… Don’t bother. I’m leaving tonight.” Keith turned to leave and Shiro reached out for his wrist, trying to pull him back and talk, but Keith just pulled it back, walking towards the door to leave Shiro’s study._

_***_

“Hey Allura?”

“What do you want, Lance?” Allura took off the glasses that had been resting on the tip of her nose and placed them on the glass, alongside a newly complete crime case given to her by Coran only a few minutes prior. She looked tired, small dark begs appearing beneath her eyes. Despite this she still seemed so elegant and beautiful, her clothes neat and her hair perfectly curled.

“I was hoping to look through the Galra files, I need information on an old member but I don’t have the key. I was wondering if you had it?” Lance moved to sit in the chair opposite Allura’s desk; fixing the collar of his brown, trench coat.

“No, unfortunately I don’t. Iverson currently possess the key so you’ll have to ask him, however… I would like to know why you’re after those files?”

“Eh… I’m looking in on an old case and I’m thinking it could be linked to the Galra.”

“You know how Iverson feels about digging up past cases; it’ll take a lot to persuade him even for you,” Allura stood from her desk, taking the folder from her desk. “On your way out would you give this back to Coran please? I’ve highlighted several mistakes in his report; make sure he corrects them before he hands it back in.”

“I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” Lance quickly stood from his chair, leaning over the desk to take the folder. I will have my report on the Brooklyn Bridge murder on your desk hopefully by tomorrow. Slav has almost finished his autopsy on the body.”

 

***

 

It was ten minutes past midnight and Voltron was deadly silent, it was weird to see such a usually lively place so dead. With the streets lights on in the distance it looked almost ghostly; made worse by the floating speckles of dust illuminated in the light.

“Am I the only one who’s completely freaked out?” Matt whispered from beside Pidge as she worked her magic on the office door lock, a candle just beneath her to try and give some amount of light.

“Shut up Matt and hold the candle higher, I can’t see what I’m doing.” Pidge grumbled, fiddling with the lock for a few more seconds before finally sighing when she heard the click. “Okay, now stop crying like a little baby and let’s go. We’ve got all night so we might as well take our time, Shiro will know if something’s out of place.”

“Gotcha… but maybe we could speed up a little bit?” Pidge took the candle from Matt, using it to light the several other candles littering the room. The room sent shivers down Matt’s spin, he felt like something was crawling up his back. It seemed so much scarier at night time.

“Look, if you’re really that scared then you can go home and I can do this myself.”

“Go home… Alone… In the dark… Maybe I’ll just stay here.”

Pidge rifled through several draws and cupboards before she finally reached Shiro’s desk. Matt was doing nothing to help; he just stood at the window ‘keeping watch’. The draws were almost empty, holding small paper clips and lonely rubber bands. It wasn’t until she reached the final draw did she find something more interesting. It was locked, however this was a much simpler lock than Shiro’s office door; it took less than a minute.

“Hey Matt, come look at this,” Within the previously locked door were several old and worn photos, the corners rounded and slightly bent. Like any other photo it was terrible quality, the brown ink barely making out any of the features on the people’s faces. Despite this it was clear that one of the figures was Shiro; his strong jaw and large boulders looking much larger against the smaller framed male that was stood next to him. Shiro’s arm rested over the other’s shoulder as they stood in front of Alfor’s large home.

“Who’s that?” Matt moved from the window to sit next to Pidge on the floor; taking a few of the photos from Pidge. “ _Keith: 14 th birthday. October 23rd 1921._” He placed the photo to the back of the small pile, looking at the next few. “ _Keith: 15, first time camping. Keith: 17 and Fouler.’_  Shiro had a husky apparently.”

“ _Keith: 12 th Birthday, October 23rd 1919\. His first birthday with us.’ _ Have you ever heard Shiro talk about Keith? These photos go all the way to 1924, same year dad…” Pidge sighed, placing the photos in the draw. “Do you think this could be related?”

“I don’t know, maybe this is another dead end, but I there’s a possibility. Maybe we could learn more about Keith, maybe he’ll know something?” Matt stood, brushing off his trousers from sitting on the floor.

“We’ll talk to Lance tomorrow; we’ll keep the most recent photo and return it when we can. This is the biggest lead we’ve ever had.”

 

***


	6. Rip Your Heart Out For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin massive shout out to @ bibys_art.ist on Instagram, they've done some adorable illustrations and drawings of both the characters and some scenes from the fan fiction.
> 
> Show them some love and support like they have done with me. 
> 
> Their link: https://www.instagram.com/bibys_art.ist/?hl=en
> 
> Don't forget to Kudos and comment, I love hearing your feedback.
> 
> -Seb

 

War was brewing between the Galra and the Lions; it had been for a long time. It was something that had been weighing down on Shiro for a while. Everyone had known the tension was about to snap; some wanted it to - mainly the Galra. Once they took back the territory they had lost in the last battle with the Lions it would be easier to drive them out like they did with the smaller gangs that were once part of Brooklyn as well. Despite the Galra claiming more territory, the Lions had better connections outside giving them access to more weapons and more popular class A, but with Quintessence in circulation the Lions were slowly losing power and popularity.

It was the smaller members that were the main problem; keeping them in line was the hardest job. The newest members mostly consisted of young teenagers or young adults, a lot of them wanted to prove their loyalty which would mean picking a fight with any Galra they see. Shiro had always had trouble keeping them in line, the Galra however didn’t bother, and in fact they encouraged such behaviours.

Recently the Galra had been recruiting more members than usual; it was suspicious to say the least. However, it was common for the Galra to have small periods where they’d build up their population, but it wasn’t something they could simply ignore. The Galra relied on quantity rather than quality, leaving ethics behind. A lot of their new recruits were young, too young. It made Shiro sick; a lot of others within the lions felt the same.

War was brewing within the streets of Brooklyn and no one was going to be able to escape it.

 

***

 

“Hunky Monkey,” Hunk was tackled by a certain Latino boy in the middle of the Brooklyn streets. It took a moment to regain his balance, but he did so with a hearty laugh, the corners of his eyes softly wrinkling as he smiled.

“Lance, nice to see you too,” The two of them exchanged a tight hug before separating and making their way towards Voltron, an old hang out spot for the both of them before Hunk had left for Samoa, plus it was an excuse to catch up with Pidge as well. The gang was back together.

“How’s your dad doing?” Hunk’s smile faltered slightly when Lance asked that question, his brows drooping ever so slightly as he thought of a delicate way to answer.

“He’s… not changed. The doctor recommended that he stays in bed, but he’s refusing. My dad is still working at the dock and even his boss is trying to get him to quit. I understand that he just wants to support us but…. It’s killing him. My younger brothers and sisters don’t need money they need a father, but he doesn’t seem to understand that.”

“I’m sorry, I understand it must be tough,” Lance ran a hand threw his short hair, pulling at knotted strands. “How long are you staying in Brooklyn?”

“Just long enough to earn some money and then I’m heading back to Samoa to pay for my dad’s treatment. Its three-hundred this time, it’s just getting more and more expensive. That plus travel costs… I just… don’t know what to do at this point.”

“If it helps I can lend you some cash, you don’t have to worry about paying me back anytime soon,” Lance placed a reassuring hand on his friends shoulder, giving him a small side smile.

“Thanks but no thanks. You’re a great detective Lance, but even I know your salary is worth next to nothing. I can do this on my own, you don’t have to worry.”

Voltron was quiet this early in the evening, but the quiet was welcome. The two took a seat at the bar ordering their drinks from Adam. Lance’s usual Tonic water and Lime was placed in front of them as well as a half pint of milk for Hunk. Unfortunately they had run out of cookies for him to nibble on.

“Pidge will probably be here soon, she’s been grumpy all day yesterday so be warned.” Adam went to serve someone else at the other end of the bar, leaving he two to their own devises.

“How’s Pidge doing anyways, I haven’t heard from her for weeks. She hasn’t been returning my letters.”

“I don’t know, she’s become slightly distant after finding a new lead with her father’s investigation. You’d probably be doing better asking Shiro that question honestly.” Lance took a small sip of his drink, face slightly twisting as the strong taste of lime hit his tongue.

“You still drink that stuff, gross.”

“Shut up, I’m not the grown man that still drinks warm milk.”

“It’s been a rough week, I think I deserve it,” The two gave a soft laugh. Exchanging gentle smiles like this was helping Hunk relax back into his old life. It was nice to have something to distract him from the troubles back home, but that was just the power of Lance and his charm.

 

Pidge stumbled through Voltron doors no more than fifteen minutes later, a wild smile on her face. She squealed as she ran towards Hunk, practically jumping on his back as she hugged him from behind.

“Hunk! I’ve missed you so much,” Hunk chuckled as the smallest of the trio pulled away from their hug, a small stream of tears running down her cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re back, I’ve been stuck with Lance for so long.”

“Oh cheers Pidge, love you too.”

“Sorry,” Hunk took a handkerchief from his trouser pocket, using it to dry Pidge’s cheeks, “I’m glad to be back, even if Lance is acting like a bit of a sour puss. He’s been updating me on all the latest gossip and… about you and your brother, I’m glad you’re getting closer.”

“Thanks, speaking of which. Lance I need your help.”

There was a small shift in mood as Pidge’s face grew serious and Lance’s eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. Pidge hadn’t asked for Lance’s help with her case since it began, mainly due to the fact that most police reports and files were corrupted, several high level officers were being paid off by the Galra. In a way Lance was too, he had associated himself with the Lions which lead to bias when it came to investigations.

“What can I help you with?”

“I need you to look someone up for me; I don’t know if they’ll be in the city files but… well I’ve been pulling at loose strings for years and this is the first lead I’ve had in a long time,” There was a certain spark to Pidge’s voice that the two hadn’t heard in a while.

“Are they you’re lead suspect?”

“I’m not sure yet, it’s hard to say honestly. There’s a possibility, although it’s too early to tell really.” Pidge’s shoulders slumped as she rested her elbows on the bar in front of her. “His name Is Keith Kogane. I have a picture if that helps, stole it from Shiro’s desk.”

It took a moment for Lance to form a reply, his eyebrows once again furrowing in confusion. It took a moment to process the information Pidge had so easily just spewed like it was nothing. “Wait… hold on a moment. You’re going to need to give me some context.”

“No time, can you find this guy or not?”

“Yes, I know him… I’ve met him a few times and drank with him a few times as well. But he’s left the Galra; I doubt he’d be able to give you anything valuable.” The two quieted their voices when the name Galra came up. It was both a regular yet taboo topic.

“Lance you’re a fucking idiot sometimes. Of course he would of told you he left, he’s not going to tell one of the best detectives in Brooklyn that he works with one of the biggest gangs of Brooklyn. The Galra are a pain in the ass but they aren’t stupid. He’s most likely still working with them. How did you find out he worked for them anyway, it’s not something you decide to just show and tell?”

“I- we… We were both drunk and stuff happened… I’m not exactly proud of it… but I’m not disappointed either.”

“Good to know nothing’s changed since I left,” Hunk gave a small chuckled as he nudged Lance with his shoulder, “Still a player, huh Lance?”

“Shut up.” Lance rolled his eyes at his two sniggering friend, “And Keith’s not a liar. If he says he’s not working for them then I trust him. It’s obvious he’s terrified of the Galra; you could see it in his eyes… I’ll ask him for you Pidge, but you’ll be the one who apologises.”

 

***

 

Despite being apart of one of the most deadly gangs within all of Brooklyn, Keith had always found himself acting like a scared child. He was always full of fear – So much fear. The odd cigarette could never subdue that rising feeling within his stomach. The ravenous butterflies practically tearing him to pieces from the inside out. His heart would palpitate with every footstep he took towards the entrance of the one place he swore he would never return to. The one place that held one too many memories of a past he wish he could take back.

He would give anything.

_“You’re form is still terrible. How many times do I have to tell you? Keep your back straight, legs apart and arms at a ninety degree angle. Either keep your head straight or rest your cheek on your forearm if you can’t handle the kickback.”_

Even if it meant giving up everything.

_“Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you-“_

_“Shut up, old man. You know I’m too old for this.”_

_“What… Even too old for chocolate cake. Shame, guess it’ll all be wasted.”_

_“Wait!”_

However all that was gone now; it had been for a long time – Well what felt like a long time. It was nearing close to half a decade since Keith left which left a lot to change and the universe to do its work. There was barely anything left of what he had.

Served him right.

After a few months of him leaving Shiro… the house caught on fire. There were several rumours to its cause, the main –of course- being it was another assassination attempt on the leader of the Lions, this time made to look like an accident, however they obviously denied those accusations. Another common rumour was that it was Shiro’s fault. That he set the fire himself; the reason why is still hazey.

Keith knew the reason why; it was because of him. This house had been their home for years, maybe not as many one would have believed, but still long enough for the two to become bonded through heart. Shiro had treated Keith like a son or a baby brother, most likely even seen him that way. However Keith had thrown that all away when he left, leaving no more than an angry and scribbled note at his bedside table only reading ‘DON’T FOLLOW ME’. It had not been a friendly parting and he despised himself for that; Shiro hated him.

Despite the foundations of the home being completely burned, the very few handfuls of bricks that were left marked out the walls that had once been there. Keith would follow the bricks, walking along hall like he had done when the house was still standing, pushing the broken and burnt pieces of the door that were left behind with his feet before stepping into the old study. Alfor’s old study, inherited by Shiro once he passed away was the second largest room just behind the dining hall. All the books the two owners of the study had collected over the years were now completely destroyed. A few leather bound books had a small portion of pages left, but the edges were completely charred and black.

However there was one book that partially survived that Keith recognised. The cover had been completely destroyed that Keith recognised. It was ‘The Tales of Peter Rabbit’, a small collection of children’s fables Shiro had read to Keith quite frequently even though he had claimed that he was too old to be read stories to before bed. Secretly though he liked it.

The tales of Peter rabbit was the book Shiro had taught him to read with, he was still terrible and found reading a chore, but at least he could read. Very few people could read, especially with education and school being so low and the demand for factory workers being so high, quite a few things were still affected after the Great War, the world was slowly healing.

Explaining the war to Keith had been almost as fun as trying to explain how babies were made, he had no idea how. How do you explain why the entire world wanted to start killing each other almost overnight? Clear answer; you don’t. He still didn’t know why and in a way he liked that, the world was scary enough as it was.

His leather boots were filthy from all the ash that covered the floor, his clothes weren’t any different though, what he had kicked up had floated into the air and clung to the fabric of his clothes as well as his skin. It was impossible to brush off; instead it would just spread further and turn his skin grey.

He had been here long enough, the clouds were getting dark, there was no doubt that it would rain later. Heavy and hard, just like it used to on the day he left.

 

***

 

“Takashi, there was a packaged left for you on the doorstep.” Adam was practically soaking wet when he walked into Shiro’s office. Only his shirt was dry from it being protected by his coat, thankfully he would always keep a spare set of closes inside Shiro’s office just in case. “Hopefully  the rain didn’t get to it, whoever delivered it was nice enough to put their coat over it.”

Adam began changing into his spare uniform as Shiro opened the package, “Weird, didn’t think Brooklyn’s delivery service was that nice, seems a bit-“Shiro’s sudden pause made Adam turn just as he was retying the bow tie around his neck.

“Something wrong-… what is that?”

Shiro’s hands were stained black as he examined the burnt book in his hands, an angry look in his eyes as his face grimaced. He looked through several pages until a note fell out, unlike the rest of the book the note was knew and undamaged by any sort of fire with only a few bits of ash staining the outside of the paper.

“Takashi, what does it say?” The abrupt movement startled Adam as Shiro chair screeched back when he stood.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” His words were harsh like needles as he threw the already burnt book and note into the small fire place adjacent to his desk, not even giving it a second glance before sitting back at his desk and wiping his ash covered hands clean with a handkerchief.

“You said the package was covered with a coat?” Shiro said with a shaky sigh, trying to push back the boiling anger in his chest.

“Yeah, an old red, leather jacket. It’s really worn-“

“Throw it back outside.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, Adam.” That left a sour taste in his mouth, but he did what he was told anyway, slamming Shiro’s office door on his way out. Despite the two having trouble in the past Shiro had never hid anything from him before, not like this.

 

***

 

It was absolutely chucking it down when Lance heard a loud and rapid knocking on his apartment door. He gave a loud and aggravated sigh as he moved towards the front door.

“I hear you, I’m coming.” The knocking stopped as he unlocked the door, swinging it open quickly only to be greeted by a shivering and wet Keith. “Jesus Christ, you’re soaked through.”

“Excellent observation detective, you deserve an award for that one,” Keith gave a small chuckle before it turned into a harsh cough. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah of course, take your boots off by the door though; I don’t want you dragging any rivers in here.” Lance stepped to the side as Keith came in, taking his boots off by the door as he was told. “You know what; just go into the bathroom and strip completely; I’ll get you some spare clothes.”

“Thank you.”

There were small, wet footprints along the wooden floor leading to the bathroom door, making Lance chuckle slightly. He knocked briefly before slowly opening the door a crack and weaving his arm around with a set of spare sleeping clothes in his hand. ”Here you go, wet puppy.”

“Thanks,” He felt someone tug the clothes from his hand before he went to close the door. “You know you can come in, you’ve already seen me naked.” Lance felt his cheeks blush slightly as he opened the bathroom door further, leaning against the yellowed frame as he watched the other change.

“Can’t help it, I’m a gentleman by nature.”

Keith had placed his clothes over the side of the bathtub to dry, along with one of Lance’s towels that he had used to dry his messy and tangled hair with.

“You say now watching me getting dressed?”

“You just said-“

“I said you could come in, I never said you could watch me change.”

“You’re confusing,” Lance chuckled, slowly moving towards a now dressed and blushing Keith. He was a few centimetres in front of him, a charming smirk on his face as he wrapped a blanket around the other’s shoulders. “What were you doing out in the rain? You weren’t even wearing a coat? I thought you couldn’t come into Lion territory anyways?”

“I make exceptions and I had some… personal business I needed to take care of...” Keith trailed off, avoiding eye contact.  “Your apartment was closer than mine and it would be a twenty minute trek in the rain so… I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and… come and see you.”

“You’ve answered two questions there, what about your coat?”

“Eh. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Fine, I’ll leave it at that. I’ll make you some of my mama’s famous soup to warm you up, hopefully before you catch a cold.”

“That sounds amazing.”

 

***


	7. A Man's loyalties Tied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its been a hot second, but I hope you can forgive me. I'll write ahead this time so I've got something juicy to post each weekend, if not you have permission to slap me.

The soup was ready almost as soon as Keith was finished settling into the sofa. The radio in the corner was turned to a lower volume, merely acting as background noise as the two spoke. They sat on the sofa together but with as much distance as possible, each with a bowl of soup Lance had made.

“Is it alright if I ask you something…? It’s to do with the Galra,” Lance asked with a certain amount of sympathy, seeing how Keith stiffened at the name. “I know it’s not something you want to talk about but-“

“No, it’s okay. What do you want to know?” Keith sat up straighter, turning in his seat to better face Lance.

“Well… I’m not sure about the date exactly, but several years ago my friend’s father was murdered. For these past years she’s been trying to find who was responsible, it was only until recently that she was given a tip. I don’t know the details exactly-“

“Then wouldn’t it be better if I spoke to them?” Keith interrupted Lance, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“Yeah that’s… probably for the best,” Lance scratched behind his neck, collecting their bowls from their laps and taking it over to the kitchen that connected to the living room via a large arch doorway. “I’ll tell her that you can talk face to face, is tomorrow night alright for you?”

“I can’t tomorrow, but the night after that I’m free. We can meet at the Balmera,” Keith stood from the sofa, looking out the window. “I should probably be heading back while the rain is taking a break. My clothes should be dry now anyways, thank you for lending me yours.”

“Hey it’s no problem, stop over any time you need.” Lance felt like he had offended Keith in some way considering his decision to leave so soon.

He was quick changing and quick to leave, thanking Lance one last time before closing the front door and practically running down the hall.

 

*****

 

It was raining again the next night, not as heavy but still freezing cold and felt like needles on bare skin. This had been a mistake, everything about it was wrong. It was stupid to think he’d show anyway.

 

*****

 

Keith was late and it was making the two of them anxious. Pidge was drumming her fingers on the wooden table and Lance was tapping the heel of his foot, they weren’t exactly helping each other. Hunk was meant to stay with them, but instead he was too busy catching up with Shay, neither of the two could bring themselves to split the couple up. 

It wasn’t until Pidge and Lance ordered their second round of drinks until Keith finally arrived, his jacket slightly damp and hair windblown and messy. He walked over to Pidge and Lance’s table, attempting to fix his appearance before taking a seat. Lance’s scarf was wrapped around his neck, just covering his mouth.   

“You must be Pidge,” Keith said as he sat down, glancing up at Lance for a second, his lip twitching into a smile. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you can tell me,” Pidge leant forward, resting her forearms on the table. “When did you join the Galra?”

“Five years ago,” The two expected him to somewhat elaborate, but instead he was met with a quick and simple answer. Not the best of impressions.

“Um…okay… When you joined… did you hear anything about a man named Samuel Holt? He was my father.”

“S-Samuel Holt?” Keith had hesitated and Lance picked up on the way he shifted. “I’m not sure. The Galra is a large group, there wasn’t much chatter between members. The Galra care about numbers, very few members are actually able to move up in rank. If your father was murdered by the Galra and there was a reason for it… you’ll most likely be dealing with a higher rank member.”

“I can look through the files back at the precinct, I’ll just need to convince Iverson which shouldn’t be too hard with my dashing charm and good looks,” It was the first time Lance had spoken since Keith had got here, his little comment put a gentle smile on both Pidge and Keith’s lips.

“Thank you, but there’s one thing I want to ask you Keith… it’s somewhat… personal though.”

“It’s alright, fire away,” Keith sat forward in his chair; he was on edge.

“Your relationship with Shiro… what happened?” Keith’s mood immediately dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping and his head falling. “You don’t have-“

“No… it’s alright. Can I ask; how do you know about my past relationship with Shiro?”

“When I and my brother broke into his office – long story, don’t ask – we found several photos in his draw… they were all of you and him. Several notes and dates would be written on the back and they seem to just stop so I assumed something happened between you.”

“Yeah, you guessed right. We hadn’t know each other for a while honestly, despite that though Shiro treated me like a brother, a little over protective at times but a brother none the less.  There was a small incident that split us apart though… I joined the Galra out of spite, used it to more or less torture in him in a way – provoke him. It was just a young and stupid mistake, but I still regret it. I said some hurtful things and then I just left, we’ve never spoken since. I wish I was able to rebuild our relationship, but I doubt I ever will be able to.” Keith’s hands were tangling in themselves, rubbing at red and raw skin as his anxiety began to spike.

“We could take you to meet him, or maybe we could be your advocate; speak for you and tell him that you want to-“

“No… I mean yes… but not yet, time hasn’t healed the wounds I made enough yet. Just give it a bit longer,” Keith shook his head slowly as he reached for the photo, picking it by the corners with a delicate touch as if it was made out of a micro thin glass. “Am I alright to keep this?”

 

*****

 

The snow had turned into rain and ground was too wet for it to settle. Puddles have slowly turned to ice as the temperatures quickly dropped as the year got further into the winter months. The night only made it worse, the sky was too cluttered with dark clouds to see neither the moon nor stars; the street lights only just managed to light the pavements, creating a warm, yellow glow just bordering on orange.

The streets were busy tonight; Keith noticed there were a lot more families out tonight than usual but it was Halloween. Trick or treating was a fairly new celebration and quite a large number of people still protest the idea of handing out sweet treats, usually complaining that it would cost too much, but no one complained about children dressing up as demons, undead creatures and poorly wrapped mummies. It was a strange holiday to say the least, Keith didn’t exactly understand it.

So many people running around wasn’t helping the rising butterflies in his stomach and the hairs on the back of his neck refused to calm down. Something was itching at him. Something was off. He couldn’t place a finger on what it was, but it was a feeling he knew too well. Someone’s eyes were on him.

 

It was too late when he figured it out, everything had already gone static. Two large hands grabbed at his arms, pinning him to the floor of the back street, another pair of larger hands were by his head with a cloth over his mouth and pulling at his hair, snapping and knotting various strands, ripping them at the root. Keith kicked and thrashed trying to hit at the people who were grabbing him, but his attempts were useless.

The smell from the cloth was strong and burnt Keith’s nose hairs before knocking him out, his body going limp and collapsing on the cement, the grub and grime sinking into his clothes.  The two men quickly cleaned the scene, taking Keith by the arms and pulling him further into the back street away from any prying eyes from the main road.

They took care when carrying Keith; the held him by the arms and dragged him to the car, the windows were painted black apart from the windscreen allowing them a clear view of the road. He was thrown into the backseat, limbs left to fall limp in random places. He looked like a past out drunk.

The engine revved a gentle hum when the key was turned in the ignition. Kids moved to the pavement as the car came onto the streets, quickly rounding the corner. Keith strained his eyes to look around the backseat, but a black, cloth bag was pulled over his head and his limp arms were tied with a thick rope.

He fought for what felt like hours to keep his eyes open, but it was a battle he quickly lost as he gave into unconsciousness.

 

*****

 

“Shiro, you’ve had enough,” Adam snatched the half empty glass of whiskey from Shiro’s hand, slamming the glass on the coffee table in front of him. “I love you, but this is too much. You’ve been non-stop drinking since you got some bullshit letter, sober your sorry ass up or I swear Ill burn every last drop of whiskey in this house.”

Angry Adam was never a pleasant sight, especially when your brain was too dulled by alcohol to even focus on his angry expression or even hear what he was saying. Only garbled noises and drawn out syllables left Shiro’s mouth, it only caused Adam’s blood to boil hotter.  Shiro was crying, or at least had been; his eyes were too dry to cry any more. His eyes were red and his cheeks covered in dried salt.

Adam’s expression turned and his stomach fell, “Just… sober yourself up a bit. Kolivan has been asking for you for a while, I’ll tell him you’ll be with him shortly.” He slowly guided Shiro up until he was standing, keeping one arm over his shoulders and keeping him upright by his waist. “He’s asked for a full group meeting, Lance has been called to the meeting as well, he’s going to be asking for the police’s help with this.”  


The bar was closed to the public, each window had their curtains drawn and the door was dead bolted.  Kolivan stood in the centre of the room surrounded by several high members of the Lions, his members of the blade stood behind him, small scarves and cloths were tied around the lower halves of their faces, just barely showing their eyes. The blades were in alliance with the Lions, yet little trust was shared between the two of them. Kolivan was the only member that showed his face, along with Antok.

“The Blades of Marmora will no longer be working alongside the Lions, we shall keep in alliance however information will be limited and Blade missions shall no longer be shared.” Murmuring erupted from the Lion members, confused and somewhat angry faces spread across the room. Shiro emerged from the dark corner of the room; his sensitive eyes still trying to adjust to the light. His head was slightly foggy, but clear enough to process the situation.

“Kolivan, may I please ask why?” The room fell silent when Shiro spoke, the Lions’ eyes moving from Kolivan to Shiro.

“Too many blades have are being exposed within Galra ranks, we believe that our… openness to information has caused news to spread to Galra members, therefore resulting in exposure to undercover members.” After Kolivan stopped speaking Antok stepped forward, his hands moving behind his back and his feet spread apart in a power stance.

“We’ve lost too many. Myself, Kolivan and the members stood behind me are all that are left of the blades. With the war between groups drawing closure gathering members is too much of a risk, loyalties will be conflicted.” Antok spoke, his voice wasn’t as controlled as Kolivan; you could hear anger wavering within his tone. Whether that anger was aimed towards the Lions, the Galra or the lost they felt on their shoulders no one dared to mention it.

The silence that filled the room was broken when Shiro spoke again, “I understand your decision. The Lions will be here to support you when the time does come and I hope you fight with us than against us.”

“Thank you Shiro,” Kolivan bowed his head, the other members following. The room slowly grew more comfortable as the tension shifted and conversations between Lion members grew again. Kolivan lowered his voice as he stood next to Shiro, expression blank, “We must speak in private.”

 

“Well that was, interesting.” Lance set the drinks down on the table, stripping off his coat and letting it fall behind him.

Pidge pulled her drink closer to her, practically hugging it. “It’s getting scary how close this war is getting; Brooklyn is going to become a fucking war zone.”  Her head fell on the table, her arms covering her face. “I’m too tired for this, why can’t everyone just take a nap?”

Lance chuckled, his hand messing up her hair, causing Pidge to grumble. “Because little gremlin, unfortunately that’s not how the world works. If it was then the Great War wouldn’t have happened, neither would the civil or any before that.”

“Well now we know where it all went wrong.” The two sat in a comfortable silence, Pidge’s head still laid comfortably on the table while Lance sat back, occasionally sipping his drink.

Shiro caught his attention, he was sat across the room with Kolivan, his face twisting into a grimace expression, it didn’t take long for him to catch Lance’s gaze. With a single hand he summoned him over. This can’t be good.


End file.
